This weekend I was determined to relax and have a GOOD time. No stress, no worries.
The day was BEAUTIFUL and I took my cat out on the balcony, so I could sit and read and perhaps repair my tan. Suddenly the cat yelped and ran inside and I realized there were bugs everywhere...not just regular bugs, but WASPS.
You fuckers! Nobody stings my cat and lives! Somehow, overnight, little miss Queen Wasp had built her nest on my front porch. I couldn't go in or out without facing dozens of aggressive little bastards. Something had to be done. I managed to find the only guy in the area who would kill bugs for me on the weekend.
So Vanilla and I drank beer and watched this guy inject poison into the wasp nest. It was terrible fun. Tonight, against the advice of my cab driver, I knocked the goddamn thing down and split it apart with my broom. Look inside! Dead larvae.
Let this be a lesson to anybody who thinks they can hurt my cat. Sting her ear? That's WAR, fuckers.
2 comments:
I just love the spirit of this post. Your fierce vengeance on the stinging your cat speaks highly of you, Muffy. Twain said,
"A house without a cat, and a well-fed, well-petted, and properly revered cat, may be a perfect house, perhaps, but how can it prove its title?"
Fortunately, these weren't the sort of wasps that paralyze an animal and it as a host...I THINK! If my cat has a chest-burster there WILL be hell to pay. And a cleaning bill to pay, too.
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